Different colored minds

The boy who ran

PAMELA POV

My brother ran away this morning. He left with his comic books and slammed the door behind him. It's strange the kind of love I have for him. He's not kind. But he was never treated kindly. He runs away and he leaves me. He leaves us. And every time I sit in my room and I wonder why. If he was having a hard time he could come to me. I wanted to run away too. I always had a plan. The other day in the doctor's office he said he tried to commit suicide three times. I didn't look up. I've never tried commiting suicide but I think about it all the time. I used to imagine the ways I would do it. Slit my wrists. In public school I can see the girls with the cuts. They ask eachother how to do it. What they use. One girl said she takes a mechanical pencil, removes the metal piece and uses that to cut.
It was worse when we lived in an apartment. I was so scared I would stab myself, I avoided being in the kitchen by myself for two years. But that didn't stop the thoughts. The roof on the top floor doesn't have a very high railing on that appartment. I used to imagine the day I would get to jump off. I would get to be free from this pain. I would be free.
And then we moved to the United States.

My brother left me here. He abandoned me. And he didn't even know I was going through the same things he was because he is so lost in himself.

My mom is yelling at my dad in the living room. I can hear it through the wall. I'm sitting with my iPad in the corner of my room. Will they find him? Will he leave forever?
My mom's voice is getting louder. I shut them out. I don't want to hear it. Them blaming each other. Them trying to fix it. Them trying to figure out why it's turning out this way. I know they're doing their best. I can feel it. But their best isn't good enough. And my brother has run away.
"Let him go. He'll realize pretty soon that he should come back!"
"He's 13! We can't leave him out there!"
"So then what should we do? Go run after him so he runs away again."
"He needs our help."
"If he wanted help he would ask for it."
"He doesn't know how. He's thirteen!"
The iPad isn't loud enough.
"What do we do? We have to do something?" A pause. I can hear the streamer poke fun at a kid. It's weird how much it helps having a streamer to watch. Someone who's there always. Just sitting there. Ready to fill the silence. Or fill the noise. Or help me forget the noise. But it doesn't actually help. I know I'm alone.
"I'll go get the car. I'll sweep the area. He'll come home tonight. I'm sure of it." My dad's voice is calm. He's getting it together. He has to. He has to hold it together. There's no other way to keep going.
The sun sinks in the sky. The cold clutches at the window panes fogging them over.
The kid isn't back yet.
He's still gone.
My mom is pacing downstairs and my dad is reading a book.
It's cold through the walls right down to my bones. It has nothing to do with the sky or the fog or this country. 
Why am I always alone? Why do I always end up alone? Why am I the one that has to always have my shit together?
I had someone tell me that the squeaky wheel gets the grease.
I can't act out. It will only backfire.
I can't keep trying to be what my parents want me to be. It's killing me.
I hate myself more than anything for not having a way out. For being stuck here waiting. In the cold. Trying not to care that my brother ran away this morning. He got away and I'm all alone yet again.